Lost in You

on. The glass spider webs making her invisible, but I can still see her, feel her on my skin. Again and again I pound my phone until nothing is left. It’s in pieces. My life is in pieces because of her.
    A soft hand rubs up and down on my arm, a head resting on my shoulder. She whispers in my ear that everything will be okay. How does she know? I lift my head slightly to look at her. Her dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. She doesn’t wear make-up or worry about what she looks like when she wakes up in the morning. For the first time I’m really looking at her and she’s pretty, beautiful.
    Her thumb dances along my cheekbones and I sigh into her, telling myself she’ll never have to see my so broken again. From here on out, I’ll be strong. She grins when my hand reaches out and touches her hip. I didn’t plan for that to happen; it was natural, as if I needed to touch her.
    “Happy Birthday, Ryan,” she whispers.
    My lips crash onto hers. She gasps before she kisses me back. Her mouth opens slightly, but enough to let me taste her. I pick her up and set her down on the worktable. Now she’s my height and I like that. My hands cup her face as she moves her hands over my arms, igniting my flesh. This is different from the way I’ve felt before. Dylan locks her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. My hands move on their own volition, from her face to her shoulders, down her arms, resting on her hips and finally I cave, allowing myself to touch her under her nightshirt.
    Her mouth leaves mine. She marks my skin as hers, leaving a path of energy coursing through my body. Her hands tug at my shirt, lifting it. I step back and raise my arms and let her take it off of me. Her fingers glide over my skin, her lips follow leaving a trail of goose bumps.
    My fingers run through her hair. I don’t want her to stop. She’s making me feel good, making me forget.
    “You’re so beautiful, Ryan,” she says against my skin.
    A loud bang above us breaks our reverie. We jump and she pulls away before I can touch her or return the sentiment. Someone’s awake and in the kitchen. We’re busted, both of us downstairs, Dylan half-dressed.
    Dylan unlocks her legs so I can pick up my shirt. I slide it over my head without breaking eye contact with her. She looks away, her face falls. I’m not sure what I just did, but I do know that I don’t like seeing her look sad. I pull her chin toward me and kiss her deeply.
     
    We hold hands walking down the hall. I made the contact first. I wanted to feel what I felt this morning with her in the basement. Maybe she gives me a newfound confidence that I never had with Hadley, or maybe it’s just that she’s different and understands me better than anyone.
    A few of her girlfriends wink at us as we walk to our lockers and each time Dylan pulls me close and kisses me on the cheek. I walk her to class – also a first for me – and let my lips linger on hers longer than allowed in school.
    “See you at lunch.” I take a step back, then another as she watches me. I’m bumped into, sorry’s are muttered, but I never take my eyes off of her as she stands there watching me. Her smile is infectious. For the first time I look at her, really look at who Dylan Ross is, and I’m very thankful that she’s in my life.
    I sit down at my desk and pull out my book. When I open it, there’s a sticky note stuck to my assignment. Happy Birthday is all it says and I know it’s from Dylan. I take out my wallet and place it in there carefully. That’s something I’ll save forever.
    “’Sup, Ryan.”
    I look over at Jake Miller, who just sat down. We’ve never spoken before, at least not in casual conversation. “Not much,” I answer as I put away my wallet.
    “So, party at Dylan’s tonight?”
    Mr. and Mrs. Ross are out of town this weekend for a police convention, but I didn’t think Dylan would invite people over.
    “It’s your birthday, right?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Yeah all right, party. Happy Birthday, man.” He pats me on the back and prepares for class.
    All throughout my day that’s how things go. Kids I’ve never talked to come up and wish me a happy birthday and tell me they’ll see me later. A few ask me what I want for a gift and I just shake my head. Only Dylan has been buying me gifts the past few years so I only expect one from her.
    When I see her at lunch, I grab her hand and pull her out into the hallway, walking down the deserted corridor and